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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/29012589">Fluff Fanfics Can Get It</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/Nationalwolves/pseuds/Nationalwolves'>Nationalwolves</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Avatar: The Last Airbender</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>M/M</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2021-01-27</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2021-01-27</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-13 12:48:26</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Teen And Up Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>1,314</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/29012589</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/Nationalwolves/pseuds/Nationalwolves</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Our bois are in college and dating when Aang introduces Zuko to fluff fics</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Aang/Zuko (Avatar)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>5</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>12</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>Fluff Fanfics Can Get It</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>The break up’s gotta begin the fuck-ed thing. It’s gotta. We all see it coming. I’m not shitting on the romance genre, okay? Fuck! god! Repress every emotion until the breakers swell and everyone’s all awash with words unsaid! Yeah, I’ve been out of the closet long enough to admit that Jane Austen adaptations go off. But, I either have to mire through all the longing and misunderstandings, or, if the love occurs right away—first sight and that shit—then I’ll go ahead and call the funeral director, you know? You can’t have lovers without conflict that keeps them apart. And even if romance is good, it can’t last forever. Just admit that love as a verb is activating your demise, buddy. I can’t deal with it. Just say it up front. Once that’s out of the way, then a relationship can have it’s charms. I just don’t want to trade in courtship. I want to have the domestic bliss and skip the grief. Fuck all the drama.</p><p>But, I’ll just admit what I already know: Aang and I won’t last forever. I’m not shitting on that beautiful cueball or working out my past demons here. Life is going to happen to us. Chances are we’ll break up. Chances are one of us dies. Chances are the Romance plot is busted. I don’t want to hear it.</p><p>Fluff fanfics get it. Cross-section the shit out of life, then seal only the saintliest bare-bones of our sagas in an online reliquary. Of course Aang introduced me to that. Sophomore year, when he still lived off the quad. He’s all shy, rubbing the buzz on his head like it’ll bring him luck. And he’s sunk into the shag of his dorm room carpet while I’m posted up on the bed scrolling through whatever on my phone. “So this is maybe weird.” Then he fucking stops after wriggling that string of words in front of me, which makes me the cat, I guess, cause after a second I swat at it. “What is?” I don’t look up from my phone, but I know that twink is eyeing me over from where he’s laying on the floor. His face always looks half-beatific and half-ravioli with the laptop glowing on it. “Okay, so, and promise you won’t judge me for this.” He knows I will, and I say as much. He goes on cause he thinks I’m nicer than I am, “Have you ever read, like, fanfiction?” The inclination toward laughter is strong with this pint-sized boy, and its nervous fizz tops off his question. Goddamn it, I love this stupid idiot so much. </p><p>Instead of answering I just side-eye him hard. Is it lying if you omit the words so only your body language falsifies the info? No one really wants to hear that a friend of theirs has read smut a couple of times to get off. Like, a guy gets tired of porn, okay? We’re supposedly aggressive visual creatures, but sometimes you’re not looking for the act, or anything really. Reading, unbelievably, provides the right kind of oblivion I’m tryna get off to: a little tenderness mixed with something hotter. And everyone’s aware there’s a dearth of that on Pornhub. It didn’t end up being what Aang was asking about anyway. So, no moral dilemma necessary.</p><p>“I’ve just been kind of obsessing over fluff lately...And fluff is just like, the characters just get to relax and do cute things, like go on stress-relieving cafe dates or take care of a pet or something. I don’t know. Just, okay look:” Egg-roll style, Aang turned over twice toward the bed and raised up on his knees to the mattress with his laptop somehow steady in hand. His arm against the side of my jeans did not go unnoticed as he arrived. He’s such a fucking flirt. Then, he clicked a link and faced the screen toward me. “Fuck! What level is your brightness at?” I put my phone down and adjusted his computer for human eyes rather than a goddamned cherub’s. Then I lean down, cross my arm over his to let him know I received the hint, and get to skimming. I guess I’m multitasking because most of my thoughts rage on about his head on my shoulder. The gist is there, though. A vampire wizard kid and another boy—he has wings, but I didn’t catch the species of this humanoid—they sleep in on a Saturday and have breakfast and shit. When I turn towards Aang, I find an eager puppy barely contained from jumping up on me. “Right!?” he yips.</p><p>	“I mean, sure,” I monotone. It was fine. Def some oversights on the editing. No plot. Nothing to drag me sleeplessly through a night. It’s internet drabble, what can I say?</p><p>	“But,” he starts, and tilts his face up so I can feel the breath of every excited reasoning right on my fucking scar. It’s all uwu’s and “just so cute,” et cetera, and so on. </p><p>	“Aang, it’s fine, I said. I just don’t care.” My shoulder arches up then and cuts him off from whatever other confidences he might sprinkle on me. The lips pout and he harrumphs back onto the floor. “Come on,” I add. “It’s just not my thing is all.” </p><p>Fuck. Have you ever seen a real beat up fruit at the grocery store. Just bruises, maybe a fly hanging out there, mold growing over a spot where the skin’s torn and folded back. I guess some people get grossed out by it. If I could smuggle that stupid apple or peach or whatever out of the store, though, and toss it into the woods somewhere, that’s what I would do. Everyone just leaves it there all ashamed and shit. Fuck that! Take it out. Let it live—however briefly—and die with some kind of dignity. </p><p>Well, that’s why I can’t stand seeing Aang get all bent out of shape, either. The littlest thing goes wrong and he’ll have a couple tears waiting in the wings. Yeah, yeah, I know it’s not immobilizing or anything to cry. And he’s the best in the business at working through shit like that. Honestly, fuck all that emotional maturity he has. I get turned on thinking about it. And maybe I was kinda turned on then to, cause next I slid down to him and put a little ginger on his shoulder (that’s what Aang calls it when you put your hand “gingerly” on someone’s shoulder—such a fucking dork). I consoled him with a little whispered “dude” and kiss him on his little sad tatted forehead. When you have someone in your life like Aang, even when you’re kinda pissed, you can’t help but feel like it’s a privilege to comfort them like that—a head peck. From an outsider’s perspective, it’s weird. But get in the moment, and you get fucked up with all the tiny gestures and shit you get to pull off. </p><p>“Lemme check them out when I’m by myself, okay? The pressure with someone, it’s weird, right? Hard to judge.” He nods, and the warmth is already recirculating in his face with the expression a favorite mug would have after being rediscovered in the back of the cupboard. “I’ll look some up with the shows I watch. I can search by the tags.”</p><p>An immediate shift. His features go all fucking puckish. “You DO read fanfiction!” Then he moves in close with his evil little smile.</p><p>“Every website has tags,” I retort.</p><p>His eyes are an inch away so I can’t pick which one to look at, but both are squinting down on their deep brown and challenging me. “Okay, fanboy…”</p><p>“I thought fans were a Kyoshi club thing?” Aang huffs a tiny laugh and then leans into the inevitable makeout fest we’d just invented.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Honestly don't know where this is going, but I love the tone too much to let it live in my google docs &lt;3 It's def modern, but how deeply entwined in the ATLA universe is still up for debate. What other fav characters will braid their way in? Will our romantic leads deal with challenges, dark themes, whathaveyous, or will it be the the fluff of dreams??? I honestly dk! It's possibility season, bbs!</p><p> </p><p>Would love y'all's feedback and suggestions :)</p></blockquote></div></div>
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